What Am I Fighting For?
by Brooklynnx
Summary: The doubt of his selflessness lead to SpiderMan wearing the black suit, which only caused trouble. Now an impostor threatened his reputation and his freedom, and with the help of Johnny Storm, SpiderMan learns what is worth fighting for.
1. Up At Dawn

_Disclaimer:__ I don't own Spider-Man, yadda yadda yadda…hurrah!_

Peter Parker hated getting up early. I mean, really, what was so hard about letting a grown man get his well-deserved rest? All he wanted was to sleep in after seven, but he was up by five in the morning, dragging himself to work.

Teaching high school science was not something Peter had seen himself doing when he was young. He thought he'd be like his father, a great and honored scientist. Well, there was always time for that later. He was close, anyway.

Peter was glad he had second period off. Having a planning period right after the first class let him regroup from the early slumps. He arrived right on time, as always, and pulled into the teacher parking lot. He made his way to his classroom and opened up the locked door, turned on the light, and started to plan the lesson.

Class began at seven-thirty, and his students piled in. He got ready to discuss the day's topic. Although he taught only part-time, he was a respected staff member with great wisdom.

"Class, rise and shine! We have a lot to cover today!"

"Aw, can't we take a nap?"

"Nap time's after the lesson, Marcus! Now, I'll save you the agony of taking notes. Just pay attention. Now, today I thought we'd cover…drum roll, please, astronomy! Ah, yes. Everyone loves space. Now, we won't be talking about aliens or U.F.O.s to get us off-topic, so you can put your hand down, Steve. No, space is the final frontier for a reason. Who can tell me something about any planet, any planet at all? Yes, Lucy."

"Pluto is no longer considered one. It's a gnome or something."

"A _dwarf_ planet. You were close, at least. Okay, Steve?"

"Yeah, uh, Jupiter's the biggest."

"How…elementary-school of you, Steve. No, facts that are of high-school level, please."

A girl in the back raised her hand. Peter called on her. "Jupiter's red spot is actually a storm."

"Good! And, Mary."

"Mars has evidence of water and life."

"Excellent! Drew?"  
"Earth is the only planet with life."

"Good point, although that's like, what, fifth grade? But no, I do want to talk about that!"

Peter leaned on his desk, spinning a globe. "How is it that we are the only planet with life? How is it that we are exactly the right distance from the sun, that we have water, that we can support life? Why isn't it some other planet? Do you think that other planets have life?"

A young girl raised her hand. "Yes, Marie, go for it!"

"Yes. We may be the only planet in our solar system to have life, but in the entire universe? We can't be alone."

"So you think aliens exist? Ha!" Marcus said.

"Now, Marcus, I think that Marie has a great point. The universe doesn't end. How can we be the only living creatures? Now, turn to page fifty-seven and complete activities one through five."

"_Aw!"_

"Hey, stop whining, you little babies. You call yourselves sophomores?"

As his class worked on their assignments, Peter graded papers. His arm was sore from something that happened two nights ago, and he was wearing long-sleeves in late June to cover his bandages.

"_Take this! Die! Die! Die!" _

"_Whoa—I didn't think you were that tough, Electro!"_

"_Shut up! I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"_

"_Aw, and I was going to invite you to my birthday party!"_

"_Hi-ya!"_

"_Arrgghhh! My arm! You—ah! You stupid—gah!"_

"_Now who's laughing?"_

"_Not me, that's for sure…awhh!"_

Peter Parker looked up from his desk. His class was still there, still busy. He sighed. Long nights will do that to you. He finished grading Tara's quiz, the last in the bunch, and filed them in alphabetical order. After passing them back the bell rang, and his planning period awaited him. He sat back in his chair…the sweet sound of silence around him. Second period off…he loved second period…

It was then that a voice came on the loud speaker. "Mr. Parker?"

"Yes?"

"Mrs. Barkus is out for the day, would you cover her class?"

"What period?"

"Now."

"Aw, come on!" he shouted aloud, not meaning to sound angry at the woman on the other end.

"I'm sorry?"

"What? Oh, no! Fine, fine! I'll be right there…" he moaned, getting up and walking down to the first floor. Mrs. Barkus was an English teacher. What the hell did he know about English?

**_A/N: This story may seem a little odd or out-there, but I had an idea and I'm gonna give it a shot. I don't really have a plan for it yet, so I'll just make it up as I go. I'm good at that._**


	2. The Truth Hurts

The class was already out of control as Peter waltzed in the door. He recognized some of the students as his own as he rapped on the desk.

"Play time's over! Now, where's the lesson plan…ah, here we go. Greek Mythology…lucky you, huh? Okay…let's see…I'm Mr. Parker, and I'll be your sub today. I'm the science teacher, as you know, but English isn't my thing, so you're in for a world of trouble. Greek Mythology. Homer. He was some sort of storyteller, right? Ah, I know Homer! He's on the Simpsons."

The class busted out and laughed.

"No, no. Enough joking around. Homer was a traveling storyteller, one of the best there ever was. His two greatest tales are the _"Illiad"_ and _the "Odyssey_", correct?"

The class agreed.

Peter grabbed some chalk and began to write. "I know more about this than I thought. I'm supposed to review about epic poems for you guys. Let's see…Okay!" He finished writing a line of notes. He turned to face the class, who were not showing anymore enthusiasm than he was. Peter cleared his throat several times.

"Right. Well, guys, let's do the review, then! In epic poems, there is always an epic hero. These heroes have special qualities that make them…ideal heroes, I guess. Let's go…the sooner we start, the sooner we finish!"

Peter Parker moved over and pointed to the first bullet he had written on the chalkboard. "The hero needs to be a brave warrior with superhuman characteristics, such as strength, skills, and wit. Next" —he pointed to the next line of notes—" they need to endure a long journey, overcoming many obstacles along the way. The hero also can never be overwhelmed by his or her vast surroundings or by seemingly impossible tasks. The hero needs to seek the…there's a word that's hard to pronounce…the, in English, the 'highest human potential'. And, finally, he or she needs to recognize the importance of the gods and seeks to please them. There, all done with that! Let's see what's next…"

Peter looked over at the substitute plans that we left for him. He sighed. "Now, name someone who can fit most or all of these qualities. Who do you guys think is one of the best heroes out there?" He sat on the desk, staring at the class. He smiled. Someone raised a hand. He called on them.

"Captain America?"

"Good choice. And, you, miss?"

"The Fantastic Four."

"The Hulk!" someone shouted out.

"Spider-Man!"

Peter laughed. "Now, I can agree with you there!" He folded his arms.

A brunette who sat in the third row spoke out. "Each of those are true, but when it comes down to it, neither are the _best_ hero."

"How so? Spidey's got my vote." Peter said with a grin.

"When it comes down to it, it's all about _motivation. _And no one has that but the one and only Superman."

"Explain yourself." Peter said with curiosity.

"Why does Captain America do what he does? Because he got the power, and because that's what he was made for. What about the FF? Because the same reason, although Human Torch does it most likely for the fame. The Hulk? He turns green, yeah, that's the highest human potential! And Spider-Man…"

"—What about him?"

"Who knows why? He's so secretive. My vote is because of something lame, like his parents were killed or something…like Batman. And he started out in _showbiz,_ that wrestling thing he tried out for, for _fame!_ But Superman…he's not even from this _planet._ Why should he care about us? Because it's the right thing to do, because he has the power and because he knows he can make a difference."

Peter looked at her. "What's your name?"

"Emily."

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen, Mr. Parker."

"How did you manage that?"

She shrugged.

"What's your overall opinion of Spider-Man?"

"He's not the best…he's…_modestly_ immodest. No one knows what he's really up to, which is why no one trusts him. People don't shout, 'Look up in the sky, it's Spider-Man', do they?"

Peter's mouth was open. Here he was, his alter ego being slandered by a fifteen year old girl, and he couldn't defend himself. Because…she was _right…?_

"But Spider-Man is…is—"

"Is not the best hero, Mr. Parker. That's what we've been talking about. In my opinion he's not even in the top twenty. But why are you so upset about this?"

_Upset? I'm upset because I'm Spider-Man, and I am the best! People love me! And I can't even come up with something to defend myself! What does Greek Mythology have on me, huh? Nothing! Why do I care so much, anyway? She's not the only one who think that._

_Maybe that's because she's using real facts…real stuff about heroes. And Spidey's not up there with them? Okay, so Spidey doesn't please the gods. But four outta five ain't so bad! What does Super-Man do to please the gods, eh? Nothing! _

_My motivation is fine, I don't know what the hell she's talking about. I'm avenging Uncle Ben, and at first it was all about that. But now I'm not…but am I? Plus, Superman never tried to avenge his planet. He…he did what he could, and what was right…_

_**A/N: As I said...working on it! (I think I've come up with an idea, actually...)**  
_


	3. A Little Help From Some Friends

"Spider-Man's going _crazy_ over it."

"Whatever, Johnny."

"I'm serious. He_ called_ me. He never _calls_ me!"

Johnny Storm was pacing the floor of the Baxter Building, home of the Fantastic Four. The others were lounging about, listening to him rant.

Mr. Fantastic turned around and looked at him. "He has our number?"

"He Googled it. Anway, I've never heard him so confused."

The Thing laughed. "He's a grown man. What's he so upset about?"

Johnny shrugged. "He's been bugging out about some thing some girl said…now he says he's not a hero. Guys, he _called _me!"

Sue Storm laughed. "Spidey has a midlife crisis every few weeks. This is no different."

"I think it is. He mentioned Superman."

"So?"

"Superman is, like, _the _superhero! He's the idol, the martyr, the alien, the leader, the…hero! He is the world's hero, even if he's fictional. I think Spidey's finally getting Superman_itis_."

"Superman_itis_? What the hell is that?" The Thing asked, popping a coke can open.

"It's when superheroes feel incompetent and insecure over someone who is way better than they are. I had it with Iron-Man last month."

Mr. Fantastic could only laugh. "You made that up, Johnny. Each superhero is unique and contributes to society in his or her own special way using his or her own powers. Spider-Man can't possibly be influenced negatively by Superman—the guy's a better supersoldier than Captain America! He's got it all—heat vision, flight, super strength, and I don't know what else. He's the ideal superhero."

Johnny nodded. "Exactly. And you know how Spidey gets in his _I'm-misunderstood-and-nobody-likes-me-and-I'm-gonna-quit-being-Spider-Man, but then he never does quit, the-world-doesn't-trust-me-and-everyone-is-out-to-get-me_ little funks, right? Well, Mr. Moody's never had one like this, I'm sure of it."

Sue Storm coughed. "If he is upset, he'll get over it. I mean, what could we do for him?"

Johnny shrugged. "He's standing on top of the Brooklyn Bridge. He wouldn't jump, would he?"

The Thing stared blankly at him. "How do you know this?"

"Oh, it's on TV."

The television set was turned on, and every news station in New York showed Spider-Man on top of the Brooklyn Bridge where Gwen Stacy, his love, was killed. He was looking down blankly at the water below.

"He wouldn't jump…" Johnny mumbled unsurely.

Mr. Fantastic looked at him. "Johnny, go to the Brooklyn Bridge. Now."

Johnny nodded, flamed on, and soared into the sky in a streak of fire, his worry shown through his speed and his accuracy.

The others looked at each other as The Human Torch left them.

"He's scared for Webs."

"Webhead is such a baby sometimes."

"Leave him alone, Ben!"

"What?"

Sue stared at the television. "We can't even _try_ to understand what he's going through. That's why he's Spider-Man."


	4. On Top Of The Bridge

Seeing The Human Torch was really fantastic. First off, he was _the_ Johnny Storm, enough said. But he flew in a streak of fire, enhancing the experience and really showing how not-so-modestly amazing he was. He had just come into view of the Brooklyn Bridge.

Spider-Man sat there, starring down into the flowing water. He looked sane enough, Johnny considered. He 'flamed off' and landed on top of the stone pillar where Spider-Man was standing.

"Hey, Spidey. Long time no see."

"Oh, hey Johnny. What are you doing here?"

"Lemme ask you a question—are you suicidal?"

"What? No!"

"Okay, that's what I'm doing here."

Spider-Man still didn't move from his position, though his head was turned to look at his "friend". He snorted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Johnny pointed. There were a bunch of people in front of vans with news cameras. It was the first time Spider-Man even noticed them. "See all those cameras? They're filming you, live, saying your crazy and you're going to jump."

"I'm not going to jump!"

"Tell that to them."

Moving for the first time, he bent down towards the cameras and waved his hands. "I'm not going to jump!" he called.

Johnny put a hand on his back. "Are you okay?"

"Not really." He confessed.

He sighed. "Superman_itis."_

"What the heck is that?" Spider-Man titled his head.

Johnny sat down, his legs dangling off the side of the pillar and Spider-Man sat beside him. "It's when you compare yourself next to a legendary superhero like Superman. That's who it is, isn't it? Look, you can't say you're a bad superhero just because Superman's out there. It's not…not…not healthy to do, man."

Spider-Man nodded.

"Look, I know you are in one of your little_I'm-misunderstood-and-nobody-likes-me-and-I'm-gonna-quit-being-Spider-Man, but then I never do quit, the-world-doesn't-trust-me-and-everyone-is-out-to-get-me _little funks, but why don't you take a breather?"

"I am taking one, that's why I'm up here. I come here to think."

"Is that safe?"

"Thinking? What, you haven't done that in a while?"

Johnny laughed. "No. I mean, after what happened here?"

"Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. I'm not learning, though, I'm…remembering. It's almost as if I forget my purpose in this life sometimes, you know?"

"I do." He nodded.

"Like, I save you, ta-da! But now what? What this city doesn't get sometimes is that I'm giving them my power...I'm not using it for myself. It's not much, but it's all I got and I'm giving it to them."

Johnny smiled and patted his 'friend' on the back.

"She knows I tried, right?"

"Who?" Johnny said, confused about the conversation change.

"Gwen. She knows I tried to save her, doesn't she?"

"Of course she knew. Why don't you head home, get some rest, stop feeling sorry for yourself?"

Spider-Man stood, nodded, and mumbled thanks to his 'friend'. He was then seen swinging through the City. He hated getting advice from Johnny. As if he knew anything. But he was right about one thing...he needed a breather.


	5. Home Again

When Peter Parker opened the front door, his wife instantly ran to greet him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him passionately, and lifted her right leg romantically. 

"Hey, tiger."

"Were you watching the news?"

She pulled away from him. "No."

"Okay, good." He sat down on the couch, sighing.

Mary Jane Watson-Parker sat beside him, her red hair flowing over her shoulders. "What happened? Bad day?"

"You could say that. It's something Johnny called 'Supermanitis'. Is that not the dumbest thing you've ever heard?" he laughed, trying to convince himself.

"What's it mean?" Mary Jane asked, concerned. She didn't like it when Peter was unhappy with himself. He was unhappy with himself too much. But then she read his face. "Oh no. You're not having another one of your little funks, are you?"

"I'm not in a funk."

"Yes you are. You're in one of your little _I'm-misunderstood-and-nobody-likes-me-and-I'm-gonna-quit-being-Spider-Man, but then you never do quit, the-world-doesn't-trust-me-and-everyone-is-out-to-get-me _little funk. What happened this time, sweetie?"

Peter sighed. "I had to cover an English class."

"What the hell do you know about English?"

"And we were covering Greek Mythology. The teacher asked me to review. And this little girl told me that Spider-Man isn't the greatest superhero ever...and she's _right."_

Mary Jane made a confused face. "How did you get from Greek Mythology to Spider-Man?"

"We were talking about a hero's traits--it's a long story." Peter smiled.

"Well, honey, who ever said Spider-Man was the greatest superhero ever? You never saw yourself as that before. You always looked up to Captain America and Thor and Iron Man, hell, even Mr. Fantastic was your idol at _one _point with that brain of his." 

"But it was hearing somebody else tell me--to my face. And especially a little kid!"

"Honey--"

Peter reached for the remote control and flicked on the television. The channel that popped up on the screen was the newest idea from the _Daily Bugle_: _Daily Bugle_ news. Live. With J. Jonah Jameson as the anchorman. Jameson was the publisher and editor-in-chief of this well known and not-so-well respected newspaper. He had a dark flattop haircut, a short mustache, and that evil glare in his eyes. He had been running a smear campaign against Spider-Man since the first dawning of his tights. "Haha. He even has a cigar on the air." Peter said, amused. Mary Jane reached for the remote, trying to persuade Peter to change the channel. But he wouldn't budge.

"Well," Jameson said on the air. A photo appeared over the anchor's left shoulder. It was a picture of Spider-Man, sitting on the Brooklyn Bridge. "I suppose today was feel-sorry-for-yourself day, since the only actions taken by Spider-Man were self-pity and possible suicide. In the meanwhile, a house fire in lower Manhattan left three dead. Now we can give Spider-Man more to feel guilty about. Why the hero sat on the Brooklyn Bridge is still unknown, though he told the cameras "I'm not going to jump!" Turns out fellow lunatic Johnny Storm, also known as the Human Torch, talked him out of it. I told you, world, Spider-Man is selfish. This city would have three more breathin' people in it if Spider-Man did what he apparently does, though we all know--" Peter shut off the TV.

Mary Jane rubbed his shoulder. "Peter..."

"Three dead." He said. "While I was sulking, three people died."

"Honey..."

Peter got up. He went upstairs. He sat on his bed and he screamed into a pillow.

"I hate Jameson..."

"Pete--"

"No, no...he's right. I was selfish."

"No you weren't! You were having a bad day! It's natural!"

Peter threw the pillow off the bed. He looked into his wife's eyes. "Why do I keep doing this?"

"Because it's right. You know that answer, Peter." Mary Jane said. "I know. Let's get you out of your little funk. Wanna go get some ice cream?"

He sighed and nodded. Mary Jane flirted, scooting next to him. "Can you...give me a lift?"

Peter smiled. "Well, it _has_ been a while..."

Mary Jane clapped and jumped up. She loved it when she got a ride from Spider-Man. Peter had Mary Jane close all the blinds and curtains as he stripped down to his tights. As he put on the mask, Mary Jane watched as her husband transformed from Peter Parker, part time high school teacher and nerdy photographer, to Spider-Man, New York City's home team.

They exited through a window in the attic, which had become Peter's usual method of getting in and out of the house, and they headed to the skyline which was visible in the distance.


	6. A Night On The Town

Mary Jane didn't rave about it so much to her husband, but she absolutely loved swinging with him in the city. Especially at night. They seemed to be dancing among the city lights, the amazing city lights. And tonight was no exception. Mary Jane's arms were wrapped around Spider-Man's neck, and he held her close with one hand and swung about with the other. Sometimes they would fall a little, which lurched her stomach but was ultimately fun; or sometimes they would go really high, and her ears would pop.

"It is so beautiful," she would say in his ear.

He would either reply, "I know." or "Yeah, like you." It depended what sort of night he wanted. Tonight he responded with an "I know" because although he was living in the moment, something was still bothering him.

He set them down on the roof of the Museum of Natural History. He told Mary Jane to wait and not to be seen as he jumped down and paid for two hotdogs from a stand that he could always count on to be at the corner. It was one of his favorite places to grab a quick bite to eat. He had become somewhat familiar with two of the people who worked there. Tonight Earl was working. Lucky Earl.

Spider-Man cut the line filled with shocked pedestrians and went up to Earl. "Can I have two hotdogs?"

"Are you payin' this time?" Earl asked.

"Sorry. I left my wallet in my other costume."

"You're hurtin' business, Spider-Man!" Earl said with a slight Brooklyn accent. "Ya keep comin' here and ya keep forgettin' ya wallet!"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry." And he made a mental note to give Earl a few bucks next time he saw him.

Earl was especially slow tonight, Spider-Man noted. What was taking him?

"So, you really suicidal, Spider-Man?" Earl asked. Oh, that's what was taking him.

"Don't believe everything ya read, Earl."

"What about what the news anchors say?"

"News anchors said that? No, I am not suicidal. I was thinking."

"Fine, I didn't believe it anyway, by the way. Here's ya food."

Spider-Man took the two hotdogs, thanked Earl, and scaled the side of the Museum to find Mary Jane. She smiled and unwrapped the foil around hers. _Jeez. Even Earl thought I was suicidal..._he thought as he rolled up his mask to take a bite. Mary Jane complained that she wanted sauerkraut on hers, so they switched. But then she found that the one with sauerkraut also had mustard, so she took her original one back.

After their quick dinner Spider-Man took Mary Jane into the seemingly-deserted Central Park, which was very nearby. He stopped swinging around once they got to a certain bridge, and then they started to walk. Normally Spider-Man would never walk with Mary Jane while in his costume, but it was literally pitch-black, besides a few random light posts. He didn't see the harm in it.

Then they heard a scream. Spider-Man, not about to leave Mary Jane alone in the dark in Central Park, ran to the source of the noise. A woman was being robbed. By gunpoint. He told Mary Jane to hide and to stay in one spot, which she did, while he jumped into action.

Spider-Man shot a web at the gun, pulling it towards him. "Now, aren't these dangerous?" he asked the burglar as he twirled it with his fingers. Spider-Man threw the weapon to the ground. The thief then took out a knife. "Oh, you're putting up a fight? This'll be fun!" Spider-Man laughed. The man swiped at him with the blade--swipes which Spider-Man dodged easily by a simple duck of the head. Then Spider-Man threw his fist in the man's face. The man went down cold. Spider-Man chuckled. "I was right. It_ was _fun."

He motioned over at the victim. "You okay, lady?" He asked, going to get the purse that the robber had taken and then set aside on the ground.

"Sp-Spider-Man! S-stay away!"

"Oh, come _on."_

"P-please!"

"You read the _Bugle, _don't you?"

The woman started to run. Spider-Man, honestly a little irritated, spun a webline that latched onto the woman's wrist. He stopped her with just enough force behind his tug and she came flying back towards him. He handed her her bag. "You _forgot_ your _purse." _He said, not hiding the anger and frustration from his tone. The woman took it, and then continued running.

"UnBelieveable!" He said.

Mary Jane came out of hiding. "You did the right thing, Tiger."

"That won't make people like her trust me. I don't get it. I'm not a scary dude. I mean, just look at my costume!"

"Let's go home, watch some TV."

"I am all over that idea," he said. He took Mary Jane and headed towards Queens, his mind still not on the present, but on the fear in that woman's eyes when he went near her.


	7. The Fight In Times Square

As they made their way through Times Square, Mary Jane noticed that her shoe had started to fall off. And the last thing Mary Jane wanted was to lose her good heels, so she had Spider-Man stop on a rooftop as she fixed her shoe. She looked out into the glowing city beyond them. They couldn't have asked for a more romantic spot.

But their beautiful utopia of lights was soon invaded by Doctor Octopus._ Oh, _Spider-Man thought. _Haven't seen him in a while_. He was a broad man, known for his bowl hair-cut, ever-present sunglasses, and, of course, four menacing metal arms.Spider-Man turned to Mary Jane. He couldn't leave her on top of a building while an evil criminal mastermind was on the loose. He grabbed her around the waist and jumped down, telling her to run and hide as he pushed her away in the crowd. He then moved closer to Doc Ock.

"Hey, Ockie-Poo! Long time no see. You forgot to write, you know. You broke my heart."

"You! Why must you always interfere with very little thing I do? I can not take a deep breath without you jumping down my throat! Leave me be!"

"Yeah right." Spider-Man jumped up into the air towards Doctor Octavius, his foot aimed at his shoulder. Octopus slapped him away with a metal tentacle. He re-bounded, grabbing the metal arm and using it as a gymnastics bar to swing around and kick its owner in the face.

"You incompetent little--"

"Hey! No bad language, mister! There are children around here!" Spider-Man laughed. He ducked as Doc Ock picked up a taxi cab and flung it over his way. He felt it rush over his head and heard it crash into a building behind him. He heard someone scream. He turned around. Oh great. The taxi was on fire.

Spider-Man ran over to the opposite end of Times Square. He himself did not have enough strength in him to lift a car. He jumped over the flaming hood and inside the building where people were trapped. There were a dozen people fearing for their lives. Spider-Man faced the flaming car, which was producing so much smoke that was filling the shop. He spun his webbing at it, hoping that it would douse the fire. The flames diminished, but were still present. He looked around on the shelves for something that could help him. He pointed to a fridge. "Grab some bottled water! Hurry!" Spider-Man yelled at any of the civilians. He and whoever had listened opened up the bottles and splashed at the flames. Spider-Man knew that this car was going to blow up soon if the flames were not taken care of. He knew that bottles of water weren't going to be much help.

Spider-Man asked the cashier if he had a bat behind the counter, as one would need in case of a robbery. The man handed Spider-Man a crowbar. Spider-Man took it, jumping over the hood of the car out on the street. His eyes spotted the nearest fire hydrant. He took the crowbar and using all his super-strength, whacked the top of it with the crowbar. Water came spewing out the top. Spider-Man grabbed the lid to a trash can and he used it to direct the water towards the flaming car.

The smoldering car received cheers from the people trapped inside. Spider-Man sighed with relief. He went to find Doctor Octopus, remembering how the taxi ended up in a store in the first place, but Doc Ock found him first. Spider-Man felt a metal arm smash against the side of his head, and he went down, hollering out in pain. His vision was reduced to fuzzy blurs of color as he focused and tried to stay awake.

Doc Ock grabbed Spider-Man's ankle and held him above the sidewalk. He could barely make out Octavius' grinning mug through the eye holes of his mask. Then Doc Ock dropped him on the ground. Hard. With added force. "Owww..."was all Spider-Man could manage. Docotor Octopus laughed. "The great Spider-Man. A pity. I always imagined your death more...bloody and painful."

Spider-Man's head was pounding. He had never been directly assaulted with one of those metal arms before--especially in the head. He knew he was bleeding. His body was trembling. He was in pain.

Doctor Octopus did not leave him on the ground for long. He grabbed Spider-Man by his two wrists, one in each metal arm. His body hung limply in front of Doc Ock_. No,_ he thought. _I'm not dying. Not like this_. And as Octavius was about to finish him off, he gathered all his strength and lurched his body forward, his feet stretching out and kicking Octavius in the chest. Spider-Man flipped, his nose bleeding, and landed hard on the Doctor's shoulders. Spider-Man felt the right one snap out of place as he jumped off. Thinking fast, he ran to the fire hydrant still gushing out water. He took the lid to the trash can and sent the water flying towards Octavius. The force sent him soaring across the street and pinned to a wall.

Octavius grabbed the building with his metal arms and started to climb up. Spider-Man just watched, as he wouldn't last if Octavius started beating him again. He looked around in the crowd of people watching. He felt dizzy. And then he saw Mary Jane. She was crying. They made eye contact, and Spider-Man jumped up and started swinging. Mary Jane followed him until they met up in a back alley. She wrapped her arms around him and started sobbing.

He patted her head. "Let's go home," said. She nodded. Spider-Man really didn't have enough strength of consciousness left to swing her home, but he forced himself. He knew she loved swinging.


	8. Card Night

They walked in the door around six-thirty, Peter's hands full with take-out bags from McDonalds. He laughed as he remembered the faces of the cashier as he went in the drive-thru. Classic.

They sat down at the dinner table, Peter sipping on his soda. Mary Jane took the food bags and tossed them on to table. She hated fast food normally, but she was in the mood for it now. Peter flicked on the lights and Mary Jane was about to open her Big Mac (she felt like indulging herself tonight) when Peter remembered: "It's card night!"

"Oh no. Can't you cancel?"

"Mary Jane, I can't cancel on them. It's_ ritual!"_

"But--"

"I'll be home soon, okay? I'm sorry, honey." He gave her a tender kiss. "I'll be back!"

Mary Jane sighed. It wasn't that she didn't want him to go. It wasn't even being alone. She knew Peter had a bad day, and that he should just relax and home with her. But boys will be boys. And boys will play cards. She heard her husband suit-up and jump out of the attic window out into the world. Yep, it was card night, all right. Mary Jane decided it was time to go over some scripts, see if she could get any decent work as an actress.

In the meantime, Spider-Man was headed towards the city. He'd be a few minutes late, if anything. He felt his heart beating and is adrenaline pump as he swung in sight of the Queensborough Bridge and into the chaos that had once been a simple city skyline. The wind blew him along as he dangled from a webline. It was dark, and the lights illuminated his path. He jumped on the roof of a taxi cab and flipped off to gain some altitude.

Times Square seemed especially bright this lovely evening. Spider-Man headed in the right direction, landing on the side of the skyscraper. He climbed up to the eighth story and found the window that was always left unlocked on card night. He jumped inside and started down the hall into the correct room.

"Spider-Man! Just in time."

"Hey, Stark. How's tricks?" Spider-Man said as he helped himself to the only empty chair. Ah, yes. Card night in the Avenger's Mansion. It didn't get any better than that.

Captain America was shuffling the deck. Johnny Storm and Daredevil were also present.It had been the five of them for card night for about four months now. The superheroes had decided that as coworkers it would be a fun idea.

"The game is Texas Hold'em," Iron Man said.

"My favorite. Hey--since when do we do dinner?" Spider-Man asked as he threw down his money for chips.

"Since now. Deal with it," Johnny Storm of the Fantastic Four snapped.

Captain America dealt the cards, and the game commenced.

_**A/N: Sorry to cut this short. I wanted to update since I may not be on for a while. I'm still working out a plot...it'll all get moving soon!**_


	9. Straight

"I raise," Spider-Man offered.

"You can't raise."

"Why not?"

"Because nobody placed a bid yet!" Daredevil snapped.

"Just see the flop!" Johnny moaned.

"Okay, now I raise."

Card Night always consisted of Burger King and the Z100 radio station. It's just the way it worked. Spider-Man didn't eat, since he and Mary Jane had gotten Mickey D's earlier, but that didn't stop Johnny Storm from shoving his face full. He complained that his whopper was too cold, so he lit his fingertips aflame and watched as his dinner sizzled in his hands. Spider-Man, though he never really liked Storm, had to silently admit that was cool.

"Okay boys, read 'em and weep! Full house!" Spider-Man said, practically dancing as he showed his cards.

"No way! You cheater! Use your sticky fingers somewhere else, Spidey!" Johnny bellowed.

"He's not lying," Daredevil shrugged, using his power even though he was forbidden to when they all played poker.

"Boys, boys! Settle down!" Captain America laughed. He handed the deck to Iron Man, beside him. "Tony, your turn to deal." As Iron Man nodded and shuffled the cards, Captain America looked at Spider-Man. "I saw your fight in Times Square. The three of us here did. We've been meaning to talk to you about it," he said.

"Oh yeah?"

Daredevil snapped, "It was the stupid thing I've ever seen you do! And, for you, that's bad! You could've been killed! Or had your mask ripped off!"

"Easy there, DD! I bought you brail playing cards, didn't I?"

"No, he's right, Spider-Man," Iron Man said as he dealt the cards. "What sort of trick were you trying to pull? You were so focused on the hostages that you forgot Octavius was there to kill you!"

"Oh, so you do remember the part where I saved all the hostages. I thought you'd leave that part out, like Jameson does." Spider-Man's reference to the editor of the infamous newspaper the Daily Bugle, who was the most notorious Spidey-hater out there, showed how he felt towards their comments. "Let's just play the game, shall we?"

As the cards were checked and chips were bet, Iron Man said, "You really should try to keep your mask from being ripped off, though."

Spider-Man slammed his hands on the table. "What is this, Hate Spider-Man Week? I've been doing this long enough, haven't I? I think I know how to keep my secret identity a secret!"

"Then how do you explain what happened today?"

"Oh, the saving lives part? I thought that was pretty self-explanatory." Spider-Man threw his chips on the table. "I call."

"I call," Johnny said.

"I'm out," Captain America said.

"I call."

Iron Man dealt the cards, on on the board there was an ace, ten, queen and now a six. Spider-Man bet.

"I raise."

"I'm out," Iron Man said.

"I raise."

Johnny eyed him. "I call, and I raise."

Spider-Man's eyes shifted under his mask. "I raise."

"I call."

"Good."

"Great."

The cards on the table were now an ace, ten, queen, six, and a two. Johnny smiled. "All in."

"All in? Really now? You? I didn't think you could make big threats."

"It's not a threat."

"Oh, really?"

"Want it to be a threat?"

Spider-Man pushed his chips to the center of the table. "All in, baby."

"Okay boys. Let's see your cards."

Johnny flipped his over and smiled his pretty-boy smile."Two of a kind." His cards were an ace and a six.

Spider-Man flipped his over. "Straight. Ace-King-Queen-Jack-Ten!" showing his cards, a king and a jack.

"Webs, you cheater!" Johnny shouted. He lunged over the table after Spider-Man, who ducked and was now running around the room as Johnny chased him.

"He wasn't lying," Daredevil offered.

Iron Man watched as the two played an intense game of tag, as Johnny shot flames after Spider-Man.

"Do you think they'll kill each other?"

Daredevil sipped is coke. "Hopefully."


	10. Desperate Times

"But it's Card Night. Why'd they give you a hard time?"

"I just don't know, MJ. Even they think I'm terrible at this whole hero thing."

Mary Jane's voice came from the other end of the phone line. "You know you're good, don't you?"

"Yeah, but, y'know." Spider-Man said into the pay phone.

"I know."

"I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay."

He hung up, exited the phone booth, and ignored the stares from onlooking pedestrians. As he jumped into a swing, he passed a store which had several televisions in the window. The _Bugle_ News was on. This was another one of Jameson's wonderful ideas. The _Daily Bugle, _one of the least-respected papers out there, was run by J. Jonah Jameson. This guy hated Spider-Man more than anything, and he often used his authority as editor to slander the wallcrawler's reputation. He was also the head anchor of a late-night news program.

Spider-Man stopped in front of the television and listened intently.

"This evening held one of the greatest superhuman battles to date. In Times Square, Doctor Octopus nearly killed Spider-Man. Spider-Man didn't put up much of a fight, and--"

"I did too put up a fight!" Spider-Man yelled at the screen. "Or did you forget how I saved all the hostages?"

"And Spider-Man just went down, and the thing is--why do supervillains always take so long? Just kill the man already!"

"Yep. He forgot." And he stormed off in anger towards Queens, feeling the sticky webbing launch him through the city.

Who did Jameson think he was, anyway? He had no right to tell the world what a bad job Spider-Man was doing. No one did! Spider-Man groaned and suddenly, he got an idea. It was terrible, horrible idea. But he would do it all the same. Men do strange things for power, but even stranger things when they have power and they just want more.

When Peter Parker entered his home in Forrest Hills, he instantly ran upstairs, past his wife who was sitting on the couch watching the news. He went up into the attic, where he normally entered and exited the house as Spider-Man. He found a trunk that he had locked up months ago, and he swore he'd never open it again. But he wanted it...power...

The trunk was locked with a padlock, but that did not stop him. He ripped the top of it right off, and there was his black suit. He held it up. He closed his eyes and felt it, smelled it. Mary Jane was standing behind him, her face frowning. "Peter..."

"I need help proving that I'm a good guy. This...this can help."

"You said you'd never wear that alien suit again, Peter!"

"I know..."

He quickly threw the suit on, and he felt so much better. He looked at Mary Jane as he held his mask. "I know what I'm doing," he said as he threw it on and jumped out the window.

Mary Jane touched her lips, the ones that her husband had just left without kissing. "I hope you do."

**_A/N: forgive my shortness!_**


	11. Confronting Jameson

He had forgotten how_ good_ the black suit made him feel.he felt like, if he really wanted to, he could fly. He felt stronger, faster, better--he loved it. He flipped and he jumped and he swung and he dove...each action felt like he had done it for the first time. He was a new Spider, and he had forgotten how amazing this new version was.

He landed hard on a rooftop in Times Square, and he saw a billboard advertising for the _Daily Bugle. _

_"Jameson..."_

Spider-Man smirked under his mask. Why had he never done this before? Jameson was the source to all his problems. It was time that he was confronted.

He had always dreamed of what he would say, what he would do, when he finally came face to face with Jameson. Why hadn't he done so already? Why had he been afraid to speak up for himself? With all that power he had at his fingertips...

The_ Bugle_ building came into view rather quickly--Spider-Man had forgotten how fast he could move with the help of the black suit. He felt his heart pump with anxiety. Too long he had put this aside...it was time.

He found an open window, as there always was one. It was late, and most of the staff had probably gone home. But Jameson...no, he had to be here. Spider-Man knew Jameson's office was on the tenth floor city-room. Not sure which floor he was on currently, Spider-Man found a stairwell and continued to climb until he saw the sign that told him he was on the top story. He turned the doorknob and quietly opened the door. He poked his head in--the desks were mostly empty, except for a reporter by the name of Ben Urich, who smelled strongly of cigarettes. He was too focused on his typing to even notice the door opening. The only other person in the room was the secretary, Betty Brant. Peter knew both these people very well, but he honestly did not care at the moment. He walked up to Betty Brant, who was looking down, rummaging through her desk.

"Hello, I'd like to make an appointment."

"I'm sorry, sir, we're closed," Betty said without looking up.

"I'm sure Jameson would want to see me."

"I said we're closed, buster!" She looked up, and her entire facial expression changed dramatically. "Oh my God! Spider-Man!"

That caught Ben Urich's attention. "Spider-Man? He jumped up from his seat and ran over, a tape recorder in his hand. "Spider-Man, I'm Ben Ur--"

He shushed him. "Jameson. Now," he said to Betty. Betty went to phone her boss, but Spider-Man pushed her aside and went to the office door. It was locked. He chuckled, then broke it off its hinges. Jameson stood up. "You!"

Spider-Man put the door back in place. "Jameson, sit down. We have to talk."

"Black suit again, huh? What, you're mo--"

"Shut your mouth!" Spider-Man shouted, shooting webbing towards the man. The webbing was so strong that it threw Jameson to the wall.The sticky goo stuck him there, and Jameson's face was priceless.

"Betty! Call the cops!"

Oh no. I did not come up here to be arrested! He thought. He ran back to where the two employees were, and before any of them could do a thing. he ordered them to sit, and he stuck them to their seats with webbing. Normally he could have felt bad, sticking his friends to chairs, but at the moment he didn't care.

Spider-Man went back to Jameson's office. The man did not show fear, but Spider-Man knew he was even a little nervous. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do this, Jonah. I'm gonna tell you something. I haven't been feelin' quite like myself lately. I've been gloomy, I feel like I'm doing the wrong, thing, and that I don't even know why I do this. And then I saw your stupid billboard for your stupid paper. And I came here to warn you."

"Warn me? Is that a threat?" Jameson spat.

"Yeah. It is a threat. Because my life would have been so much better without your false accusations. So I am warning you. Stop it. Stop, and apologize in your next editorial."

"I don't think so!"

Spider-Man grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, ripped him from his webby-restraints, and smashed him against the wall. "Don't you dare! I've realized something Jameson--a life like yours isn't worth a dime." He dropped the man. "I am not going to be bullied by your newspaper anymore. Got that?"

Jameson didn't move. Spider-Man groaned. "Just to...you know...persuade you even more..." Spider-Man took the man, sat him in his chair, and webbed him down. He webbed his ankles and wrists, and covered his mouth. Spider-Man took Betty and Ben and pushed their chairs into Jameson's office, tying them down with a fresh wad of webbing. He fixed Jameson's office door, placing a "Do Not Disturb" sign so that no one would be bothering them for a while.

"Please, Spider-Man, don't do this--" Betty said.

Spider-Man shut their mouths with webbing. "Sorry. I suggest you get a new boss," he said. And then he left. He jumped out of a window and left them. Normally Spider-Man never would have done that--to Betty or Ben, anyway. But it felt good. Like he had control. Like he had power!

Spider-Man took a deep breath. He was in charge now.

**_A/N: Thank you for reading and also to those of you who take the time to review. It means a lot to get some positive, and even negative feedback._**


	12. That Morning's Paper

The next morning, Mary Jane woke Peter early. She had gone to bed before he came home, and that was after midnight. She slapped a rolled-up newspaper on his back. He moaned, his eyes blinking awake.

"What?"

"Have you read this morning's _Bugle?"  
_

"No."

"Well, maybe you can tell me a little about the _headline!" _Peter rolled over, taking the newspaper from the bed. As his vision focused he recognize the gigantic font, which read: _Spider-Man to Jameson: "Shut your mouth!" _Peter groaned, pushing the paper away. But Mary Jane pulled it back up to his face. "What did you do last night?"

"I stood up for myself. Is that so wrong?"

"It is when you_ tie_ people to _chairs!" _Mary Jane said. She sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm telling you, it's that damn black suit! You said you'd never wear it! You know what it does to you!"

"Yeah, and it feels good. I feel like I have power, MJ! I had the power to stand up to Jameson and to tell him to stop his crap!"

"You never did that in your regular suit!" she argued.

"Well, it's about time I did! It felt good, MJ! I told him--I _threatened _him!"

"Yeah, I _read_ it." She said.

He jumed out of bed. "I don't have time for this. I'm going on patrol."

"Peter, don't! You were going to help me review scripts, remember?"

He threw on his black suit, then clothes to cover his secret. "Yeah, and I got pictures to sell. I have to make some money, too, MJ. We'll do it tonight, over hot chocolate."

"Promise?"

He held her shoulders and kissed her forehead, then looked her in the eye. "Of course." And he ran out of the room. Mary Jane followed, shouting, "At least have some breakfast!"

"No time!"

Mary Jane heard the door open and slam shut, and she stood in her home alone. She didn't know if she should cry or not, but she grabbed a tissue just in case. She breathed, opened up the paper, and looked at the photos inside. It showed three people, identified as J. Jonah Jameson, Betty Brant, and Ben Urich, tied to their chairs and muffled with webbing. Spider-Man's webbing. Peter's webbing.

"What has gotten into him..." Mary Jane sighed, shaking her head. She closed her eyes and breathed; just breathed.

**_A/N: Sorry for the short entry. I'm really busy and I don't know how much time I'll have to update. But after Thanksgiving and such I'm sure I'll be back on track!_**


	13. Freedom

"Whoo-_hoo!"_

It seemed to echo throughout New York City. It was the cry of a man who had discovered how much fun having superpowers could really be.

He had done everything he'd always wanted to do. He jumped from the top of the Empire State Building. He then jumped from the top of the Statue of Liberty. He barged into City Hall and asked to use their bathroom. He grafftited the_ Daily Bugle_ building with his webbing. He sent twenty pizzas to the police cheif who onced called him a fruitcake. He felt _good._

As it was a beautiful day, she stood on top of the building he had been resting on, and screamed, "You hear that, world? I'm in control! I have the power!"

And the he jumped again, screaming, "Whoo-_hoo!" _once more.

The press would be all over this day and all his crazy actions, but he didn't care. It was an amazing feeling: not caring. It was the first time he ever felt like that. He felt like the world was no longer depending on him. He felt...free. Free of his burden, his choice, his responsibility.

_Responsibilty._ That word again.

He stopped swinging and waited, waited for an answer to pop into his brain. He heard a voice, telling him. Telling him to forget responsibilty. To forget everything.

_Forget everything...live for today...use your power the way you want to...do it...you are free..._

Spider-Man looked at his hands. His black suited hands. He made a fist and smiled under his mask, and mumbled, "I am free! You know what? Who cares if I was doing the right thing! Who cares if I was a glory hound! Who cares! Jameson was right...he wanted me to be this...what I am now. And I gotta admit, it's amazing."

And then he saw a police car with flashing lights and blaring sirens speed by below him. And for the first time, he turned the other way.

A/N: Sorry for the shortness! I wanted to get it in before the holidays, since I won't be able to update a lot.


	14. Nowhere In Sight

People were shocked. They saw him standing there, not doing anything. Why didn't he follow the police cars? Why didn't he go help? Why didn't he do anything?

"Just like Jameson says," Spider-Man shouted down at the people who were calling him. "I'm a glory-hogging, selfish menace who doesn't do any of the good things that I say I do."

And he swung away, his black suit picking up speed. Yes…_yes! He_ was in control! And it was time to show the world exactly what a glory-hogging, selfish menace of a Spider-Man looked like. Hey, it's what the city had wanted all this time. Why not give them what they asked for?

Spider-Man started swinging to no where of particular interest. He did not go on a patrol route; he did not go to check on the city he protected. He did not hear Uncle Ben repeating the word "responsibly" over and over again in his head. He didn't hear anything but his own heart beat, and his own desires. And he started swinging to wherever the hell he wanted to swing.

Suddenly Spider-Man saw a pillar of smoke rise from the skyline. Was that where the police cars were going? People could burn! He had to…no. No, Spider-Man had made a decision. He was going to be selfish now. That was what he had told himself.

_Stop your crap, Webhead! Go save the city! It's what you know is right! _Screamed a voice in side of him. It was the voice of his red and blue trademark tights.

_But they don't know its right. They'll blame you. _Said a deeper voice, the voice of his black suit.

Spider-Man watched the smoke rise, and then he nodded. "You're right," he said to himself. "They would blame me."

"Spidey!" someone screamed his name. Spider-Man looked around. It was the Human Torch. He was on fire, flying over the smoking building. "Spidey! It's good to see you're out and about again! What's with the black suit?"

"Storm," Spider-Man greeted. He didn't say anything else, and then he went to swing away.

"Wait! The fire is _that_ way!"

"I know."

"What does that mean?"

"You wouldn't understand. You're Pretty-Boy Johnny Storm! Everyone loves you. But they don't love me, they don't trust me. So I'm listening to them. I'm not helping them anymore."

"That just means you're going to prove them right!" said the hovering flaming man.

"Yeah," Spider-Man said, excitement in his voice. "They never expected me to do that, did they?" And he spun a webline and took off to take care of himself. Johnny hovered in place, amazed. Did he really just do that? Johnny didn't blink until he saw the Fantasti-Car--filled with the Thing, Mr. Fantastic, and the Invisible Woman. "Flame-for-Brains! Let's go!"

"Guys--it's Spider-Man!" the Human Torch said, turning and flying next to the hovercar.

"Oh yeah? Does he still got that supermanitis crap you were talking about?" Ben Grimm laughed.

"No. He's gone a-wall."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"I mean I just saw him! And he said that he's not gonna play hero anymore!"

Sue Storm's face was pale. "No. Spider-Man's a good guy! He always--" the she stopped. They were at the scene of the fire. She looked around, and Spider-Man was no where in sight.

A/N:


	15. Dead or Alive

Spider-Man sat perched on a rooftop, still able to watch the flames from the emergency he had refused to help with. "Wow," he said aloud. "I can't believe I just did that. I mean...I just_ did_ that!" He was smiling from the adrenaline, but he honestly did not know how he felt. Yes, he felt like he had before, and as he insisted on repeating, he had power. But he was also disappointed with himself. His entire life, since the day Uncle Ben died, he had been responsible. But now...but now he didn't know what he was anymore.

Would he beome this? Yes, he wore the black suit only to prove Jameson and the others...but to prove what? That they were right? Wasn't that what he had been fighting against? And how long would this last? Would he ever be himself again? His head was spinning and he felt sick, but he understood something. This needed to be done. He needed to test the odds and become what he had been saying he was not.

Spider-Man did not realize where he was, as he looked to his right and saw the _Daily Bugle_ building. Looking out of a window was none other than J. Jonah Jameson. He was staring at him, shouting. Spider-Man couldn't hear what he was saying, but he knew it couldn't be nice. Should he apologize? _Apologize to Jameson. Ha. That'd make headlines._ But Spider-Man knew that the days of him wearing the black suit were publicly known now. He may as well have a statement to let everyone know what was going on.

Spider-Man leaped the gap between the two buildings and landed a few feet below Jameson's window. Jameson took his cigar and flicked it at him. "How dare you show your face around here, if you're gonna show it at all!"

"Relax, JJ."

"Relax? I will not relax when there is a felon on my building! Get the hell away from here!"

"Felon? What are you talking about?"

Jameson rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that! You always give me that! So, parading in my office and sticking me and two of my employees to our chairs wasn't enough for you, eh? You had to go tormenting women with babies, steal from grocery stores; wreck havoc everywhere!"

_"What?!"_

"Well, no, sir! Not in _my_ city!"

"Jameson, I didn't _steal_ or do _anything _to anyone's baby!"

Suddenly sirens filled the air. Spider-Man looked below, as police cars lined the sidewalk and the officers ran into the building, their guns drawn. "Oh jeez. Listen, Jameson; the whole sticking you to a chair thing was totally out of line, okay? But I'm trying to show you that I am not like that. I wanted to prove you wrong...but in doing so I guess I proved you right."

"Don't move, Spider-Man!" Shouted a police officer, his weapon pointed at the Wall Crawler's head.

"Jeez, you guys got up here fast!"

"You're under arrest, Spider-Man!"

"Listen, fellas--"

A shot whizzed right past his head. A warning shot. Spider-Man, stunned, looked at the young officer. "I have orders to take you in dead or alive."

_"Dead?"_

"Spider-Man..."

Spider-Man sighed. "Officer. Do you really--no, don't look at your buddies. I am talking to you. Personally, do you think I did all those things?"

"Yes."

"And why?"

"The black suit--I've heard stories--"

"Aye, you crazy man! Shoot him! He's right thar!" Said an older officer with a thick Irish accent. Spider-Man's spider-sense barely had enough warning, as he dove out of the window frame to be skimmed by the bullet. He felt a chunk of flesh from his air rip off. _"Ow! You shot me! You--you shot me!" _Spider-Man said as he swung away. "Dead or alive..._jeez_...what did I _do?"_

_**A/N: I noticed that my author's note didn't appear on my last updated chapter, so here it goes: this story may seem a bit rocky, but that is because I am really not sure where it is going. I have an idea, but I am trying to expand on it. Bare with me!**_


	16. Home Again, Home Again

Spider-Man was used to indescribable amounts of pain. But bullets were an entire different level. He wanted to scream out and cry, but he knew he had to keep moving, otherwise he'd be looking at five to ten years in a prison cell. Prison did not sound like fun.

When Peter Parker slammed through the front door, Mary Jane jumped to her feet with the first aid kit ready. She had seen it on the news--_everything._ And she filled her bleeding husband in.

"So Spider-Man robbed three stores...and then he shouted at some woman with a stroller."

"Come on! That is so low!" Peter moaned.

Mary Jane nodded. "Just tell me it wasn't you, Pete."

"MJ, of course not!" Peter shouted. "Someone figured that it'd be the perfect time to play the let's-frame-Spider-Man-game! I need to get my traditional tights out and stop this madness. I'm wanted dead or alive, MJ! What could this fake-me have done that was so bad?"

Mary Jane swallowed. "Peter...he killed a guy."

He went pale._ "What?"_

"He dropped him four stories...it was a police officer."

_"What?_ Oh my _God!_ This is..._terrible!_ That poor man...I have to fix this MJ! I_ have_ to--"

Mary Jane stood up. "You were _shot_ at, Peter!"

"Yeah, I know. For something_ I_ didn't do. Mary Jane..._this_ is why I get up every morning. It's to stop stuff like this from happening. That's what I fight for. It's about time everyone else knew that."

He went to stand, but yelled out in pain as his shoulder burned with the bullet wound. "You keep pressure on it. I'll get your suit," his wife told him. Peter smiled and turned on the news. "So I robbed three stores, killed a guy, and scared a baby." He shook his head. "I can't believe someone would commit murder at my expense. People think I did it! I don't kill people..."

Apparently the news reporter thought differently, as she was at the scene of the death of the police officer. A picture of Spider-Man appeared on the screen. It was a wanted poster...paid for by the_ Daily Bugle_, go figure. And then J. Jonah Jameson's face was on television. "The people of this city should've taken action a long time ago! It's about time Spider-Man is seen for what he is and thrown in a cell!"

"And kind words from JJ...God! I can't believe this happened!" Peter said.

Mary Jane returned, laid the costume on the table in front of them, and took her turn aiding Peter. "It did. Was going on your badass routine worth it?"

He didn't answer.

"Peter, I know what you do is crazy and dangerous and all of the above. But you used to do it because you knew it was right, not because others approved of you. What happened to that Spider-Man?"

"That Spider-Man was shot at today. I can't just go out into the city, because I'll literally be dodging more bullets. I'll have to go into the city in my civvies, then call the police from a pay phone and have a little heart-to-heart."

"Is that the best idea?"

"Only one I have right now. If I go to the police station myself, I'll be arrested. If I just swing around town, I'll be arrested."

Mary Jane kissed him as he went to leave. "Right now? You were_ just_ shot!"

"I heal faster than most people, honey." He kissed her. "I love you. Thanks."

"Love you too, tiger." she said as she watched her husband throw his suit on, then his civilian clothes, and head out the door. She smiled. He'd fix this. He had to.


	17. Cooperation

Peter Parker had traveled into the city by train, which felt extremely odd and expensive. Once he arrived he went to the nearest payphone. He waited on line, throwing sunglasses on and holding a tissue to his mouth to muffle his voice slightly. He entered the booth when it was his turn, dialed 911, and was connected through an operator. 

"Is this really Spider-Man? If it's not, I _swear--"_

"No, it's me, officer," Peter said. He was sweating.

"What do you want? Why are you calling?"

He sighed. "I'm calling because it wasn't me who did all those things. Now, before you say anything, I know I my black-suited badass routine wasn't the best for public image, but I am not a _murderer,_ a _robber,_ or a _baby-yeller-person!" _Peter said, trying not to be the joker he was known as. Serious times called for serious measures.

"And you expect me to believe _that?!_ You_ are_ crazy, Spider-Man. How can we trust you? We have no way to identify you!"

"Well, that's what I wanted! Whole _mask-thing_ going on there. Listen--I didn't know what I was fighting for. With the bad press and the accusations--I needed to do that for me. But when I realized someone was dead because of _me..._let's just say I had a rude awakening. And I feel terrible. I heard the man was a police officer."

"My partner."

"God, I'm so sorry," Peter said with genuine sympathy.

"What do you want, really? Besides to waste my time?"

"Look, I know I don't have many friends on the NYPD…okay, maybe I don't have any. But I need to fix this. There is a killer out there who needs to be brought to justice!"

"Oh, so noble?" the officer said with sarcasm.

"What if I help you? If you can tell your boys not to shoot at me or try to arrest me, I will _do all in my power to help. I know I have a bad name in the business, but dead_ or alive? What is this, the Wild West?"

"Spider-Man, you're wanted dead or alive because you possess power that's inhuman in this world. It's about time—I helped issue the order."

"I want to help!" Peter snapped.

"I want you in jail!"

"No! You want your partner's _real _killer in jail! And that's never gonna happen if you don't stop it and trust me!"

The officer was silent, considering. He then said, "Okay, okay. If you come into the precinct I'll make sure you're not arrested or shot at. But if this is some sort of trick…"

"Trust me, officer—I don't want to be there as much as you don't want me there. Now, what precinct?"

Peter Parker took down the address on the napkin he used to muffle his voice, then darted out of the phone booth incase he was being traced. He did not change into his costume until he was one block away from his destination. Once he was there he jumped on a rooftop, shed his clothes down to his tights, and ducked low until he was on the top of the precinct. He broke the door handle on an enclosed stairwell. He was not looking forward to this at all.

As soon as he showed his face, officers had their weapons draw. Spider-Man's hands were up, as he cried, "Don't shoot, _don't' shoot!_" He felt his heart stop as he looked down the barrels of the guns.

"Don't shoot him! He's with me!" A well-built bald officer came forward. His face was full of stern, cold hatred. He did not extend a hand, he did not welcome Spider-Man. He yanked his wrist towards him, telling him to follow him into his office.

"Spider-Man, I'm Officer Nelson. And let me make this perfectly clear: I. Do. Not. Like. You."

"Nice to meet you too, officer," Spider-Man said with added attitude.

"Now, I've called a lot of the other precincts and told them you're on our side—apparently."

"Apparently. Right. Because I'd be around the police willingly if I committed those crimes."

The officer poked Spider-Man in the chest. "Well, what're ya gonna do_, hero?" _

Spider-Man didn't acknowledge the man's finger stabbing into his body. He looked the officer in the eyes. "I'm gonna prove you and everyone else…_wrong." _He then pushed the finger aside. "We're on the lookout for the black-suited Spidey. Not me. I have the red and blue undies out now. I'll keep patrolling in secret looking for him."

"We'll be doing our part here. And how do we know you're not conspiring with the black Spider-Man?"

Spider-Man sighed. "You're just gonna have to trust me, aren't you?" With that he went to the window, opened it, nodded the officer, and jumped.


	18. It's Right

_I am so friggin' tired of cops, really. Why don't they get it? You can be a vigilante and still be on the good side!_ Spider-Man thought as he headed into the city on his weblines. _Jeez. You'd think I actually did terrorize babies! Ugh, I guess there really isn't anything I can do, huh? Nope. No, sir. No-sir-ee. I'll always be Spider-Man: New York's Most Wanted, The Menace, the frickin' guy with a big "L" on his forehead, because I'll still do it. I'll still save the day and those people will still hate me._ Spider-Man flipped onto a car, rode it for a few feet, then headed towards Times Square. _But that's it, isn't it? That's what I fight for. For them. For me. No matter what._

_No matter what. No matter what sort of lunatics threaten me and my repuation--whether they be like Doctor Octopus or like Jameson. Because it's right. _

Spider-Man latched on to a lamp post, spun around it and flipped off. _It's right..._Suddenly there was a scream, and Spider-Man turned around to see a man in his black suit. "Last time I checked, I was Spider-Man," he said aloud. The man in black ran down the street, holding a pillowcase Spider-Man guessed was full of cash.

Spider-Man chased after the guy, leaping onto the sidewalk and chasing him. He watched as the black suited fraud ran down an alley. Spider-Man ran and turned the corner as well, expecting to see the man trying to find a way to escape.

As he turned the corner, and as he did so, he was hit in the head with a lead pipe. He instantly fell to the ground, his world shrouded in darkness.

**_A/N: Sorry for the shortness! _**


	19. Flaming Confusion

Spider-Man ran his head in a circular motion as he awoke. As soon as he opened his eyes, his mind was shrouded in pain. "Awh...oh man, that hurts..." He stood, leaning against the brick wall. He took a look around and found he was still in the alleyway. Where was the black-suited fraud?

Spider-Man looked at the ground and saw the lead pipe. It had a dent in it, no doubt from hitting him in the head. Spider-Man left it alone--maybe it had prints on it. He didn't want to tamper with evidence. He blinked, trying to stop the pain and see clearly. _Oh, my head! I haven't felt this bad in a long time..._

Spider-Man tried walking, but it was no use. He was sure he had a concussion...and a bad one at that. He couldn't even walk a straight line. But he wasn't worried about himself. His only chance at clearing his name had hit him with a lead pipe and fled. Which left the question, Now What?

Spider-Man, with his vision more now than fuzzy blurs of color, stick to a wall and made his way up to the top of the roof. He lifted up the lower part of his mask, breathing in the fresh air much easier that way. He felt much better after a moment or two, with nice, cool air filling his lungs. He decided it was time to hit the streets again and look for his thieving, baby-terrorizing impostor.

People screamed as they saw him swinging overhead, but he didn't pay it any mind. He never did. But then he heard his name being called by a familiar voice. He turned around and saw Johnny Storm heading his way. He was going fast. Really fast. Spider-Man suddenly realized that he wasn't going to stop, and he leaped out the way and rolled onto a rooftop.

"What the heck, Matchstick? I'm swingin' here!"

"I bet you are. You're under arrest, pal." Johnny said, his flaming body hovering above the street.

"What are you talking about, Storm?"

"Don't give me that! Go quietly and I'll make sure you get a DVD player in your cell."

"Hey, that's my line!" Spider-Man commented. "But, Johnny, I made a deal with the cops. They're gonna let me clear my name and catch the _real _bad guy. The one who pretended to do all that stuff in _my_ name."

"Yeah, the black-suited Spidey, right? Well, I'm lookin' right at him."

Spider-Man didn't take it in at first. He then held out his hands and stared. He was in his black suit. "Aw, come on! No, Johnny--you gotta lemme explain! I was in my red costume, right? And I was chasing the black-suited me. But he knocked me out with a lead pipe and--and he must've switched costumes! Wait...that means he knows what I look like...he took off my mask! Holy--oh, _man!_ Not good. Not _good!"_

"Yeah, right. Explain it to the cops," Johnny said.

"No, Flame-For-Brains! Listen! Lis--" but Spider-Man's words were cut short as a fireball was aimed right for his chest. He flipped out of the way and dodged it easily, but the hurt was still there. He didn't believe him. Suddenly his spider-sense screamed at him, and he turned around and shouted out just as loud. Johnny smiled through his teeth as he watched his well-aimed fire ball burn Spider-Man's arm. Spider-Man, paying more attention to his spider-sense, felt its warning that Storm was sending a huge wall of fire his way. Knowing he could not jump far enough in time, he created a shield of webbing around himself; an act of desperation. Spider-Man poked his head out of the smoke later, surprised. "Well, whadaya know? My webbing's fireproof!"

Spider-Man watched Johnny wind himself up for another attack. Tired of explaining himself, Spider-Man aimed his webbing at the flaming man hovering above the streets. He laid it on thick, watching as it doused the fire. And as Johnny lost his flame, he lost altitude. He started falling, shouting that he couldn't fly.

Spider-Man wasn't about to let Johnny become a pancake on a New York City sidewalk, so he dove and caught him as he started swinging towards the ground. It was an easy act. As soon as Spider-Man landed, he threw Johnny to the ground near a fire hydrant. Spider-Man grabbed a "NO STOPPING ANY TIME" sign and knocked the top of the hydrant off, allowing it to spout its water all over Johnny, who now would not be able to "flame on" until he was completely dry. Spider-Man, ignoring the stares of pedestrians, ducked to meet Johnny's eye level. "Sorry, Torch. But I had to. You were out of control."

"How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you aren't lying?" Johnny spat.

"Come on. How many times have I pulled that fire hydrant trick?--and you still don't know better, by the way. Listen, Matchstick, I am in a tough spot right now. No one believes me. People think I terrorize babies! You know me, Storm. Do I terrorize babies?"

"No," Johnny admitted.

"Thank you. Somebody gets it. And maybe if you believe me, then other people will start to. After all, it was your Supermanitis routine that got me all worked up into this mess."

Johnny Storm laughed, dripping with water. That last remark about Supermanitis showed who the real Spider-Man was. "Alright, yeah, fine. Looks like you don't have Supermanitis anymore though."

"Because it's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," he said, helping Johnny up and out of the haze of water. As he did so, the area was soon surrounded by police cars. The men exited, their guns drawn and pointed at Spider-Man. One of the policemen was Officer Nelson. Johnny looked at Spider-Man, who was still supporting his weight. "Does this happen on a daily basis for you?"

"Pretty much," Spider-Man replied.

Johnny waved a weak hand. "It's okay, he's with me."

"As if I should be proud of that?"

"I'm more popular than you," Johnny teased.

"Ooh! Ouch!" Spider-Man joked. "That hurt my feelings. I need to go give my Elmo doll a hug now."

"Dude, you need a new doll. Your Elmo jokes are getting pretty lame."

"It's not my fault you don't like Elmo."

"Will you two shut the hell up?" Officer Nelson shouted.

"Sorry, officer," Johnny said, standing on his own now. "I've spoken with Spider-Man, and--"

"This is not Spider-Man! This is the black-suited impostor! We're bringin' you in, buddy!" Nelson shouted.

"First off," Spider-Man said, "I'm not your buddy. Secondly, I'm the real Spider-Man. I was chasing the impostor and he hit me over the head with a lead pipe. When I woke up, I was in the black suit. He switched costumes with me when I was knocked out."

Officer Nelson looked at Johnny Storm. "And you believe this crap?"

He nodded. "Yes, I do. It look a lot of persuasion, but yeah, I do."

Officer Nelson threw his hands up in the air. "I can't deal with this! You are in the black suit. That's all I care about!"

"Well, you need to start caring about a heck of a lot more. Now there's a fake me in my _good _tights!"

"Fine. If Storm believes you--which, if you are wrong, Storm, I will have your head for it--then we have no choice. We do not have time to sit pointing fingers. If the impostor is still out there, then more stores are at risk of being robbed."

"Not to mention babies," Johnny brought up with an evil glare.

"Yeah, funny." Spider-Man said sarcastically. "So what can I do?"

"You stay hidden until you can do something useful. No need for you to go swining around freakin' people out." Officer Nelson left the two superheroes alone. Johnny, with genuine sympathy, put his hand on Spider-Man's shoulder. "Sorry, Spidey. Rough day."

Spider-Man removed his friend's hand. "More like rough week."


	20. Racing

Johnny Storm sat beside the black-suited Spider-Man on the rooftop of the police precinct, keeping him company for the little time he could. He did not, however, expect it to be awkward. The two superheroes never really hit it off well, even from the beginning, as each was jealous of something the other had. With Spider-Man, it was Johnny's popularity and the fact that he did not need to wear a mask. With the Human Torch, it was something a little deeper that he really never revealed--not even to himself.

"So..." Johnny said, trying a conversation.

"Listen, Johnny--"

"No, no..."

"Johnny...thanks," Spider-Man sighed. "It's not easy for me to admit it, but I do need help on this one. And you helped. So, thanks."

Johnny patted his back. "Don't worry about it." And he smiled. Spider-Man smiled back, though Johnny couldn't tell. The two then had their privacy intruded by Officer Nelson, who came via the acess stairs. "We got a hit. Red-suited Spidey's at the _Bugle._ Your second home, Webhead."

Spider-Man nodded. "You know it. Just make sure you wipe your shoes on the rug before going in."

"Come on, get up, you two! We have no time to waste on this one! We need to unmask the impostor--"

"How will we know it's not the real Spider-Man?" Johnny asked.

"Don't even think about trying to unmask me, buddy. I'll brake your arm before you even reach my face."

Officer Nelson actually smiled. "That's why you don't have any friends on the NYPD." He motioned for them to follow, which they did. Spider-Man found it funny--using stairs in his tights. Stairs and Spider-Man did usually not fit in the same sentence, unless he was stopping someone crazy from collapsing them.

"I'm getting my team up there now. The place is being evacuated, but we are analyzing each person that exits to make sure our guy didn't pull a fast one," Nelson said as they reached his office.

"I'll head there now. I'll get there faster than your cars."

"Wanna race?" Johnny asked from the corner of his mouth when Nelson had dismissed them.

Spider-Man, needing to make light of the situation, nodded. "Oh, it's on." And before Johnny could reply, Spider-Man raced forward and jumped out an open window. He saw the flaming Human Torch behind him. "Cheater!"

"Gotta be quicker than that, Storm!" Spider-Man laughed. He flipped off a lamp post into the air, gaining altitude as Johnny caught up. The two had been neck-in-neck for about two and a half blocks until a pedestrian cried, "Look! The Human Torch is chasing Spider-Man!" This cry was replied to by a dozen, "Get him, Torch!" and "Arrest him, Torch!" and "Don't let him get away!" Spider-Man swung himself on to a rooftop, where Johnny flamed off. He wasn't sure what to say to Spider-Man, who just needed the silence more than anything else.

"Think it'll ever change?" Spider-Man asked abruptly.

Johnny smiled and nodded. "It will. There's only one Spider-Man."

"Yeah, and there's more than one guy who can fully engulf himself in fire," Spider-Man said sarcastically. He exhaled and nodded. "Sad thing is...I'm used to it."

"Don't get too comfy. The_ Bugle's_ only three more blocks from here. What do you think he's doing in there?"

"Whatever it is, it's not good. I dunno about this. I mean...I don't wanna go in there."

Johnny sighed. "Of course, if you don't wanna clear your name, I understand. Who doesn't like being booed from the sidelines?"

Spider-Man said, "Aren't you supposed to be making me feel better?"

"Yeah, so enough with the 'poor me' act and let's make you feel better!"

"How?"

"You're telling me punching a guy who messed up your life in the face doesn't make you feel better?"

"Point taken," Spider-Man said, and he was the first to jump off the building's rooftop. And, under a dozen swings later, the_ Bugle_ building was in sight. Spider-Man, yet again on another rooftop, pointed at the building and asked Storm, "Whaddaya think?"

"I think we use the front door," Johnny smiled. Spider-Man thought he was joking. But then Johnny Storm 'flamed off' and went through the front door. So, no, he was not kidding. Spider-Man, feeling weired than when he used the stairs, entered the building in which he was clearly not welcomed. This would be interesting.


	21. Hiding In Forty Stories

Spider-Man was quiet as he entered the _Daily Bugle._ Johnny, who had probably never set foot in the place before, elbowed him and said, "home sweet home, Webs."

Spider-Man failed to reply. Johnny then asked, "So, who do you think he is?"

"Huh?"

"The guy in your costume. Who do you think it is?"

"Chameleon," Spider-Man said without hesitation. "He hit me with a pipe instead of full-on combat. And Mister Presto Change-o isn't known for his karate moves." He turned around then and said, "We better search the place. You take the odd levels, I'll take even."

"But there are, like, forty stories!"

Spider-Man nodded. "Then you better 'flame on', pretty boy."

Johnny nodded and they both headed for the stairwell. Each floor was almost identical: there were a few cubicles, a large number of desks with computers, a central printer, and a few private offices. Spider-Man could hear the Torch complaining. A few people were still in the building and were in the process of being evacuated. Spider-Man stopped them and asked questions. No one had actually seen the impostor, and few had known he was even there. Spider-Man came to a conclusion that the impostor had to be in the basement--it was the only place where he would remain unseen.

The basement was home to a few floors, actually. There was the main hub, where the paper was printed and distributed. But there was also another level Spider-Man had never been on. He groaned, not excited about the damp, cold, dark surprises the basement had planned for him.

He entered the stairwell and headed down, as talking the elevator was a bad idea. As soon as the doors opened, his arrival would be known to everyone down there. He waited for a buzz from his spider-sense, found nothing, and continued down. He finally entered through a door, closed it quickly, and waited. There was nothing. The lights were on, which Spider-Man wondered was usual.

He was practically tip-toeing around, listening for anything. Finally he got a slight warning from his spider-sense. He decided it was time to take action. "Come on," he said. "I know you're down here. Why couldn't you ruin someone else's reputation? It had to be _me_, it's always _me!" _

The impostor wasn't budging, obvious enough. So Spider-Man kept talking while he took a look around. "Listen, buddy. Let's just talk, alright? Hopefully you didn't bring anymore lead pipes..."

"What do you want?" the voice echoed through the basement.

"I want to see who the heck almost got me shot! Why? Why did you do it? What's your motivation? How could you benefit from it?" His spider-sense suddenly went nuts. He ducked and rolled out of the way in time to see the red-suited impostor emerge, striking the ground with a pipe. "Aw, come on!" Spider-Man cried. "Another pipe? Are you serious?" The impostor went to strike again, and Spider-Man tried to catch it. That was a bad idea, as he underestimated the man's strength and he felt his wrist bend backwards. He screamed out in pain, his hand hanging at an unnatural angle. He bit his lip through the pain and charged, jumping and aiming his foot at the fraud's head. On impact the red-suited man flew backwards against the wall.

"Was breaking my wrist _really_ necessary?" Spider-Man howled. But the man did not reply. He did not answer or move at all. Spider-Man went to check on him. There was no pulse. Quickly he tore the mask off, and what he found surprised him. There was no way of identifying the man, because he had no face. It was a robot. And Spider-Man's kick to its head had destroyed its mainframe. He could ask Mr. Fantastic to see if there was a way to trace it, but other than that the real person behind all this was a mystery.

Spider-Man heard something. He turned around, looking in all directions. His spider-sense did not give any warning that it was danger approaching, but he still had an eerie feeling. And then a man appeared. He could not make out the darkened figure, but he prepared for the worst. A creepy silhouette was never good news.


	22. Shiny Revolver

The figure approaching was advancing at a steady pace. Spider-Man stood in a ready position, with his fists clenched and his knees bent slightly, ready to spring at a moment's notice.

"If you're in charge of this robot-thingy, I have a _major_ bone to pick with you!" Spider-Man shouted.

"Save your breath, Spider-Man. I'm not interested." The voice was so cold, and so familiar that it was scary. The man kept walking. He was almost into the light now.

"What do you want?"

No answer.

"Who are you?"

Still no answer. But that voice...

The man stepped out from the shrouded darkness, which almost made Spider-Man flinch alone. But the main reason Spider-Man nearly leaped backwards was because the man was holding a gun. It was a nice, shiny revolver, aimed right at Spider-Man's chest. And the gloved hand that was grasping it belonged to none other than J. Jonah Jameson.

"I've waited so long for this," Jameson said.

Spider-Man put his hands up in the air. _"Easy, _JJ. Don't do something stupid."

"The stupid thing was to let a menace like you ruin my city."

Spider-Man pointed to the sparking robot that lay against a far wall. _"That's _the bad Spider-Man! _That's_ the impostor! Jameson, put the gun down. Let's _talk_ about this!"

There was a cold smile on Jameson's face. A dark, evil smile. Spider-Man raised his hands in the air a little higher. He was contemplating his options--whether he could leap out of the way or not. He decided not--there was little place he could go, and any sudden movement could scare Jameson into firing the damned thing. So Spider-Man stayed where he was, slightly sweating.

_"Do it..."_ hissed a voice. _"Do it, Jameson. You know you want to..." _Spider-Man looked around, unsure who was whispering these words. He looked at Jameson, trying to reason with him. He noticed then that Jameson wasn't blinking. Spider-Man cocked his head, confused. Jameson would have been loving this moment...but that...that wasn't Jameson. "Jameson, snap out of it!" Spider-Man said. There was a cold laugh that echoed in the basement. "Oh, yes, Spider-Man! I'm sure he'll do so as long as you say 'please!'"

The man was wearing a padded green jumpsuit, topped off with a purple cape and odd bowl helmet. "Mysterio!" Spider-Man pointed. "What have you done to Jameson?"

Mysterio placed his hand on Jameson's shoulder. "Giving the man the chance he's always wanted, of course, even if he is not there to see it."

"You hypnotized him? Why? Why not do it yourself?"

Mysterio laughed. "As soon as you're dead I will be free to leave and Jameson will take the blame. The impostor was a perfect way to set the stage, to make Jameson seem like you trully were a monster. And though the robot was a pain to control, I find that the chaos it caused you and your miserable life was worth it."

"So...it was all a trick to get me killed? By Jameson?"

"That's right, Spider-Man. You're catching on."

Spider-Man could not believe he had fallen for it. He was a classic victim of the old impostor trick. Mysterio's frame heaved as he inhaled. "Breathe it in...the last bit of air that will ever reach Spider-Man's lungs. Do it, Jameson. Kill him. Now."

Bullets were not Spider-Man's favorite thing to run from. They were fast and deadly. But it wasn't as if he had much practice doing so. And as Jameson pulled the trigger, Spider-Man relied on his spider-sense to keep him alive. He ducked his head, the bullet zooming over his head. He fell to the ground on his feet, knees bent, and swept the floor with his leg. He knocked Jameson and Mysterio down. Another shot was fired, this time at the ceiling. Spider-Man managed to kick the gun away as Mysterio tumbled.

Mysterio took the fall as a pro. He flipped, rolled and spun around in time to deliver a punch to the jaw to Spider-Man. Mysterio snapped at his hypnotized servant, "Don't just stand there, you fool! Get the gun!"

Spider-Man saw Jameson race towards the revolver, and he tried to get there first. But Jameson's hand was already on the trigger, and he whirled the gun around and fired. Spider-Man fell to the floor.

**_A/N:Happy Holidays, Everyone! _**


	23. Death In Third Person

Mysterio didn't move. He watched Spider-Man sink to the floor. He watched his body heave in pain. He watched his costume soak in his own blood.

He did it. Spider-Man was shot and nearly dead.

He did it.

It was finally over.

* * *

It was just beginning. 

Spider-Man wasn't sure where he was. He looked around him, seeing Mysterio, a brainwashed Jameson and a dead robot. He stood, looking down at the ground and seeing his own blood. It was a puddle on the floor. But he felt no pain. He looked down at his chest, where he was shot. Nothing. No hole, no blood. As he walked away, he then saw himself lying in the puddle of blood. He was so confused--he was there, and here...

"Am I dead?"

"You're not dead. Not yet, anyway. Hell, I'm glad I wasn't alive to see you swing around as Spider-Man for long. If I found out I would've had a heart attack!" That voice! It sent shivers up and down Spider-Man's arms. It was so familiar.

Uncle Ben stepped out of the darkness, smiling. Spider-Man didn't move. He analyzed him, head to toe. But his shining eyes and his smile could not be mistaken. "Uncle Ben."

"Peter," his Uncle sighed. The two stood there awkwardly, but then hugged each other for a very long time. The man beneath the mask was crying.

"So...so what's happened? Am I dead? And you--are you really here?"

"I'm here, all right. You're not dead. But close enough to being dead that you can see me. See? This is your murder scene. You were shot--like me. You are really lying in that pool of blood. Mysterio, huh? Wacko."

Spider-Man was sweating under his costume. "I can't die, Uncle Ben. Not yet. I'd love to be with you, but I still have so much to do. I need to stop Mysterio and I need to--"

"You need to do a lot of things, Peter. And don't worry. You're not going to die."

Spider-Man looked into his eyes. He was scared. "I'm not?"

Uncle Ben shook his head. "But I knew this could be one of the only times I could see you. It's not your time yet. Watch." He pointed, and Spider-Man watched.

"Hey, Spidey? Everything okay down here?" the light that was coming down the stairwell, and the slightly annoying voice, showed that it was Johnny Storm. He screamed when he saw Spider-Man on the floor. Spider-Man thought, and it was the first time he saw Johnny this upset. Mysterio dissapeared in a cloud of smoke so suddenly, but Johnny wasn't interested. He grabbed Spider-Man on the floor, then saw Jameson wake up.

"What the..." Jameson was waking from his transe, and he was stunned to see Spider-Man bleeding out on his floor. "What the--"

Johnny Storm didn't have time to explain. He carried Spider-Man up the stairs. Jameson was dumbfounded.

Spider-Man, standing beside Uncle Ben, said, "I'm not dying? You promise?"

Uncle Ben shook his head.

"C-cool..."

Uncle Ben patted him on the back. "It's good to see you, Peter. I miss you."

"I miss you too, Uncle Ben. I love you...wait...where are you going?" He said as he watched his uncle walking towards the darkness that shrouded the basement.

"I have to get back. Hopefully you won't need to follow me for a long, long time."

"Did this really happen?"

He shrugged. "That's for you to decide, isn't it?"

"I guess so..." he shrieked suddenly, falling to the ground. His vision was hazy, or so he thought. But he realized it was his actual body that was blurry. "Uncle Ben! What's happening?"

"You're waking up. I'll tell your Aunt you said hi."

Spider-Man's eyes were closing, though he tried to fight it. He wanted to be with his Uncle. But he couldn't stop it.

_**A/N: I'm going to be honest: this isn't one of my better stories. I had an idea, I didn't like it, and I changed it and still didn't like it. Sorry! But thanks for the reviews, they are always something I look forward to. This started out as a boredom write and just sort of grew into something I wasn't ready for it to be.**_


	24. The End

"UNCLE BEN!"

Spider-Man shot up, his chest heaving. He looked around the room, which he discovered to be a large hospital wing. His scream was still echoing when Johnny Storm entered. "Spidey! You're awake!"

"What the--where am I?"

"The Baxter Building. I took you here after you were shot."

All the memories rushed back into his head. "Oh my God! Uncle Ben...Mysterio! You--you saved me, didn't you?"

Johnny smiled and shrugged. "You could call it that."

"Wow. I never saw that happening."

"Me neither," Storm laughed.

Spider-Man nodded. "Thanks."

"Of course," Johnny said.

Spider-Man jumped out of bed, feeling better all ready. He healed faster than average people. "So, what about Jameson?"

"He's fine. Nearly had a heart attack when he realized what was going on. When he woke up from his trance and was told he shot you, a smile whipped across his face."

"Doesn't surprise me, really," Spider-Man said. "So, where's Mr. Fantastic, Sue, and Rocky?"

"On a mission. Hey, Spidey...I'm so sorry. It's been a hell of a week for you. But the good new is...your name is cleared. Jameson was a witness and saw Mysterio. Now they just gotta find him."

"Man, I am not looking forward to that. But I gotta give Fish Bowl Head some payback." He turned around and pointed to the phone "I gotta go call my wife and tell her I was shot."

"Knock yourself out!" Johnny said.

Spider-Man nodded and walked over to the wall phone. He dialed the number, and, as always, Mary Jane picked up before the second ring. "Hello?"

"Heya, Red."

"Peter! Oh my God! Are you--what the--?" Mary Jane was frantic.

"I'm fine, MJ," Spider-Man said.

"They said you were shot!"

"They didn't lie."

"Oh my God!" She was crying. He could tell.

"I'll be home soon. I love you." After he heard her say "I love you too" he hung up the phone. He walked over to Johnny. "Y'know, I really hate this business sometimes."

"I hear ya...hey, want help with Mysterio?"

"You don't mind?"

"Not at all."

"All right, then. Hey--I can swing in public now without people throwing things at me or calling me a baby harasser!"

Johnny laughed. "Looking on the bright side of life, are we?"

Spider-Man shrugged. "Sometimes you have to."

**_A/N: Okay. I am REALLY sorry to end it like this! But I have very little time to get online anymore and this was my least favorite story, so I just cut it short. Sorry! I really am--I normally don't do that. Thanks for everything, you lovely readers you! _**


End file.
